


The Dinner

by gargargarrick



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Communication Failure, Gen, Hostage Situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:18:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gargargarrick/pseuds/gargargarrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark makes a valiant attempt, but manners only go so far. [Spoilers for Last Specter/Specter's Call]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dinner

Herschel. Yes. He breathed a bit easier.

Herschel had always been the smart one, hadn’t he? Always wandering around in a daze and just happening to find the right solution, the real answer. Always smiling gently as if to say “I knew it all along; I only wanted to make sure _you_ caught up before I said anything.” A real, honest genius.

He wasn’t really smiling today. He was actually looking mildly concerned. Well, anyone could tell from looking that Clark was not at his best — that he _couldn’t_ be at his best with that man hanging over his shoulder. And that was the rub, wasn’t it? There was no way they could speak freely with _**him**_ in the room, and he could hardly expect Herschel to have developed telepathy since they had last met. Direct communication would be disastrous, and there was no way to convey the situation to Layton without _**him**_ picking up on it.

_Think, blast it…just think of it as a puzzle_.

Yes.

The wine cellar.

“Well, now, you absolutely _must_ stay for dinner!” said Clark’s mouth without any conscious action from his brain. “I won’t take no for an answer, it’s been so long…so much to catch up on!”

“Er,” said Layton. He adjusted his collar. “That’s very kind of you— ”

“Oh, and you know quite a bit about wines, don’t you, Professor? I have a fine selection in the cellar; please, I insist you choose a bottle for us. Take your time.”

_Go into the blasted cellar and look around, you **clod**._

“Wine? I’m afraid I…”

Luke, God bless the child, had already scampered off for the cellars, leaving Herschel and the young lady to either stand around dumbly or follow. They eventually chose the latter, although Herschel cast a worried look over his shoulder as he exited the study. He _was_ the smart one.

_**That man**_ patiently shut the door after the trio, and then turned to face Clark, very slowly. Neither spoke. It was only now, as the adrenaline ran down, that Clark felt a chill; he had long since broken out in a cold sweat. He retrieved a handkerchief from the desk drawer and mopped at his forehead, trying not to betray his nervousness. _**That man**_ still remained silent.

Time passed.

* * *

“Oh, Clark,” said Layton, as if chiding a child, “you really haven’t changed.”

Herschel was there. Luke was there. The young lady, and that man were there. That was all.

Clark forced it out.“Oh, is that so? Odd thing to say.”

“That cellar. Such disorder!” Herschel chuckled good-naturedly. “It was the very image of your dormitory back in the day…I did pick up the glass on the floor for you, for what it’s worth. I must have told you a thousand times not to leave breakable things where you walk, at least…ah well, the past is the past.”

_The glass. The glass!_

“I see.” Clark heaved a sigh. “If you’ll excuse me.”


End file.
